


Malcolm Likes to Watch

by orphan_account



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is something I originally wrote in response to a prompt on the TTOI_kinkmeme, so I hope it's OK to repost it over here.  Pretty shameless Porn Without Plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malcolm Likes to Watch

The call came at 5.00 pm. She smiled and picked up the receiver, she knew what was coming, she could see his name on the display. Their arrangement suited them both. He got to let off steam after a hard week, and she loved to perform for him. 

They were a perfect match. There were no strings, just an unspoken understanding that they would take care of their needs together that had existed ever since that night when he had caught her. He had slipped away from the department Christmas do and dropped off to sleep for a few moments in an armchair in the darkened and deserted waiting area in the corridor. He had been jolted awake by the chair shaking and had opened his eyes to find her perched precariously above him with a knee on each arm of the chair, knickerless and legs spread, having slipped away from the party and followed him; he had realised with pleased astonishment that she was rubbing at her clit and groaning softly as she came, unable to stop herself in time when he opened his eyes. There had been no time for her to be embarrassed before he had purred his approval with a smile and moved his hand to his crotch, and told her that any time she felt like repeating the performance she was very, very welcome to do so.

She heard his warm Scots brogue down the line now, the accent she loved thickened by desire. "My office, in half an hour. I want it." It was long enough to allow most of the office staff to leave and for him to close the curtains and relax in the chair at his desk for a while with a tumbler of whisky, letting the anticipation build.

She made as if to leave herself, putting on her coat and picking up her handbag, and set off down the corridor, pausing at his office door to glance quickly both ways to make sure she was unobserved before slipping into the room. She didn't knock. She liked to catch Malcolm unawares sometimes and find him already rubbing himself through his trousers or breathing heavily as he watched something filthy on his computer screen while he waited for her. This time, she found him lounging in his chair with his feet on the desk, having kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. Just like a tired businessman in a strip club, she thought, except he wouldn't be going home frustrated, she would make sure of that.

She shed her coat and draped it over a chair, then stood for a moment in front of his desk, hands on her hips and looking into his eyes as if issuing a challenge. Malcolm looked her up and down appreciatively and licked his lips. Holding his gaze, she walked languidly around the desk to join him, taking slow steps and swinging her hips provocatively. She liked to give him a foretaste of what was to come, a saucy tease to get him breathing harder and redden his cheeks a little.

She positioned herself between him and the desk, giving him a knowing look before turning her back on him and placing her hands with deliberate care on the side seams of her tight pencil skirt and beginning slowly to lift it, grasping the fabric in her fingers, hitching it higher inch by inch. She swayed her hips as she did so, knowing he could hear the satiny lining of her skirt rustle against her stockings. She knew Malcolm's gaze was fixed on her hem as it rose and skimmed the fullest curve of her buttocks, revealing her knickers and eliciting a heavy sigh from him.

Tucking her fingers up under her rucked-up skirt, she hooked her thumbs into the top of her panties and swung her hips again, letting him enjoy how the fabric shimmered in the light of his desk lamp as it creased and tightened over her buttocks with her movements.

Now for the tease; with a last glance over her shoulder and a hint of a coy smile, she bent forward over the desk and lowered her knickers, slipping them almost off her arse, showing him a tantalising glimpse of her crack between their soft, lacy folds and the hem of her skirt. She heard Malcolm moan softly, she knew he loved to watch her expose herself just a little whilst remaining fully clothed, he had shyly told her that he found it intensely erotic.

She looked back over her shoulder again, pleased to see his eyes shining with pleasure, and winked. "Naughty girl," he murmured, and she responded by slapping one bum cheek sharply and quickly pulling her knickers up and letting her skirt drop, enjoying his gasp of delight as he saw her bare flesh quiver for a moment, and then his groan of mock disappointment as it disappeared from sight.

She turned to face him and perched on the edge of the desk, kicked her heels off and rested her feet on the edge of Malcolm's chair between his thighs, poised on tiptoe to show off the curve of her legs, with her knees demurely pressed together. His fingers twitched and curled on his chair's armrests as he fought the desire to run his hands up her stockings, knowing full well she would tell him off.

"Uh-huh, remember I know where you keep your spare ties, if you won't keep still and watch like a good boy I shall have to tie your wrists to that chair and make sure you do." He let out a low groan and she wrinkled her nose coquettishly, returning his smile.

She sat up straight on the desk in her best cheesecake pose and began unbuttoning her suit jacket, discarding it quickly, knowing that what Malcolm really wanted to see just now was her undoing her blouse and slowly revealing her breasts to him. He gazed spellbound as she did so, exaggerating each movement of her fingers as she undid each button, barely revealing anything until they were all undone and she had untucked the garment from her waistband. Finally, she opened her blouse fully, arching her back and half closing her eyes as she did so, and let the silky fabric slip off her shoulders and down her arms to pool on the desk behind her.

She felt her breasts bounce a little in their pretty bra as she hopped off the desk, and knew Malcolm would enjoy that. He *loved* tits, loved to see them move, see them tumble free from a bra, and he especially loved to see her own sway heavily as she moved for him. Sure enough, he parted his lips and breathed, "Fuck me, that's beautiful" as he watched. There was no mistaking his arousal, he was flushed and bright eyed, breathing deeply, the outline of his rigid cock clearly visible through his trousers. He loved that she forbade him to touch himself, it made the pleasure all the sweeter when he finally came. The feel of his erection straining against his cotton briefs, shifting a little as it swelled and his balls tightened almost painfully, was exquisite.

Standing before him now, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall, revealing her panties again and her stockings - a touch she knew a man of Malcolm's age particularly appreciated. He was old enough, and old-fashioned enough, to adore the sight and feel of bare skin above stocking tops and she loved the effect they had on him.

She perched on the desk again, this time spreading her legs and placing a foot on each armrest of the chair. Malcolm grinned and slid further down in his seat, allowing his legs to fall open so she could fully appreciate the compliment his body was paying her, knowing it would encourage her and reassure her that it was OK to strip for him like this and share herself fully with him, even her most intimate wishes when it came to sex.

She leant forward, displaying her cleavage to him as she put a hand on each ankle and then ran them slowly upward, spreading her fingers and running her palms along her inner thighs, letting her thumbs graze the crotch of her panties oh so gently, torturing him. Malcolm swore and shifted a little in his chair. She waved her index finger at him and tutted in mock disapproval. "Not yet," she whispered. She slid her hands on upward, cupping her breasts firmly for a moment, before hooking a thumb under each shoulder strap of her bra. "Ready?" Malcolm nodded quickly. She took her lower lip between her teeth, and slowly lifted and then let go of the straps, snapping them against her skin mischievously, knowing the insolent gesture delighted him, blatantly teasing now.

"You wicked fucking minx," he laughed, "Come on, get on with it, you can fucking see how much I want you naked." She laughed with him, only too happy to oblige. Still looking into his blue-grey eyes, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra, enjoying the feel of the cups loosening. She shifted the straps a little so they were resting at the edge of her shoulders, then clasped her hands behind her neck, lifting her hair in a classic pose before beginning to shimmy slowly, feeling her breasts swinging deliciously and watching Malcolm as he sat mesmerised, looking for the first glimpse of her nipples. She duly granted his wish, lowering her arms and letting the bra fall, continuing to shake her tits, knowing he would tell her later exactly what the sight of them had done to him. "Just ... oh ... that's wonderful," he groaned, "My God ...".

He took a deep breath, moaned aloud and shifted again in his chair. He had been patient, he needed his reward soon. She gave her breasts a quick squeeze for him, then moved her hands to her thighs. In her best Dita Von Teese style, she peeled her stockings down and off, and dropped them lightly on Malcolm's crotch. It was time to bare herself fully for him, and she leant back and drew her legs up on to the desk, and turned sideways to lie down. She relaxed onto the files and papers strewn on the desktop, she loved to disrupt his neat working space, ruffle his feathers a little. As long as she didn't actually kick his computer monitor or the telephone onto the floor he didn't mind, although it had been a near thing on occasion during certain other sessions.

She drew up the leg nearest to Malcolm, arched her back and turned her head to look him full in the eyes as she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers for the second time that evening, feeling her body warming with pleasure at the knowledge that this time the teasing was over and she was going to get them right off for him, finally give him what he really wanted. This was her centrefold moment, as they laughingly called it, though he had told her she was better than any woman he had ever seen in any porno magazine. (This was one more of the quaint, old-fashioned traits in Malcolm she found so endearing, he was very old-school in his tastes and eschewed the internet in favour of erotic literature and vintage glamour magazines.)

Playing her part to perfection, she moaned a little and rocked her hips as she tugged her panties down to just above her knees, working her thighs in only barely feigned ecstasy to kick them down to her ankles and off. She heard Malcolm slide his chair a little closer to the desk, and felt his breath lightly caress her belly. He was sitting up now and looking determined, his brow furrowed, intently focused on the pleasure that awaited him in a few moments. "You've been a good boy," she told him, "Shall I do something very nice for you?" He nodded and swore under his breath, his hands twitching in his lap, fighting to keep from coming right there in his pants like a schoolboy in spite of his years.

She sat up and turned to face Malcolm, who now sat inches away from the desk, having slid the chair forward in his eagerness. She spread her thighs wide and displayed her wet pussy to him, and saw his nostrils flare as he strained to catch a whiff of her scent. "Fuck, love, do it," he grunted thickly. She laughed and placed the middle two fingers of her right hand to her cunt, and wet them a little between her lips before beginning to circle her clit gently, tracing every fold and spreading herself, letting Malcolm look his fill. He was panting hard now, so close his breath tickled her pussy, helping her along in the way she would not yet allow him to do with his fingers or tongue.

She quickened her rhythm and began to rock her hips, circling her clit firmly and occasionally dipping her fingers into the juices that flowed from her cunt and then spreading them upwards. She began to moan in time with imaginary thrusts, and closed her eyes. "What, what is it? What are you seeing?" Malcolm gasped. "You're -you're on top of me," she breathed, "giving it to me, all the way in, right up there, oh it's beautiful ..."

She heard Malcolm's chair scrape the floor and thought he was about to fit the action to the words, but she opened her eyes to see him scrabbling among the knick-knacks on the mantelpiece behind the desk. He found what he was looking for, and turned quickly back to hand it to her. It was an African statuette that had been given to the Prime Minister on a state visit to the continent, which he had promptly pronounced to be hideous and passed on to Malcolm. Malcolm, whose knowledge of the world's erotic practices and arts was far greater than the PM's, had recognised the object for what it was.

The apparently grotesque figurine was actually an intricately carved dildo, and it pleased Malcolm greatly to have it on display in his office and ensure it saw regular use as whatever tribesman had carved it years ago would surely wish. She took it from him gratefully, and positioned it at her entrance, nuzzling the rounded end to and fro for a moment in her wet folds - Malcolm almost squealed - before working it carefully inside, holding her pussy lips apart so they could both watch it going in.

"That helps," she said, and she thought Malcolm's eyes were going to pop out as he shifted from one foot to the other, standing over her now, almost hopping up and down in frustration. She lay right back on the desk now, eyes closed in rapture as she continued to work the toy in and out of her, doing her best to imitate Malcolm's own natural rhythm when they fucked, and still fingering her clit expertly. She drew her legs up, too close to the edge of the desk and too far from the chair to brace her feet on anything, but she didn't care, she let her thighs fall open and her feet flail where they would, knowing Malcolm loved to see her undone and losing control, he relished the filth of it all, watching her come for him, just for him, right there on his desk.

She let out a gasp and began to work the dildo faster, stammering between moans that she was going to come, she was so close, almost there. As her orgasm overtook her, she heard Malcolm give a stifled cry as he finally opened his trousers and shoved them down around his thighs along with his pants. She felt his frantically pumping fist nudge the base of the dildo as he worked his cock, sending wonderful jolts through its length as he brought himself off, his cum spurting generously over her thighs, her cunt, her belly, everywhere.

******************************************************************

Once they had both recovered themselves somewhat, she rose from the desk, her limbs a little stiff, but very happy, and bent over to kiss Malcolm lightly, almost chastely, on the lips as he sat slumped and satisfied in his chair with one hand langorously fondling his now softening penis. She quickly put on her skirt, jacket, shoes and coat, gathered up her handbag and left.

She left her bra, stockings and knickers for him. She knew that later, when he had collected his spirits, he would stuff them into his pocket to take home, where he would enjoy them again, gathering them in both his hands and pressing his face into them to inhale her scent again before masturbating into the silky handful of lingerie.

She would find them, as she always did, in a neat package on her office chair on Monday morning, carefully washed and accompanied by a handwritten note thanking her and expressing the hope that they might perhaps repeat their adventure before too long. As if she could ever refuse him when he called. She couldn't wait.


End file.
